Tell All
by RuthlessBallard
Summary: Red is forced to face past demons as she watches her celebrity daughter in an tell all interview about her incarcerated mother
1. Chapter 1

I would have not chosen to watch a tell all interview about my daughter with two hundred other inmates surrounding me. I knew however this was perceived I would get the brunt of it for a good long while. I shuffled in with my girls as we took the priority seats in the screening room. I could see the glances towards my way and the knowing smiles. I've been getting them quite a bit these last few months and I'm still adjusting to all the hoopla.

For two years now my daughter Anya became one of the top selling recording artists in North America and soon to be the world. It was not a reality neither Dimitri and I had in mind at all when she was born. But it makes sense. Anya always loved to sing. I think it was her way of grabbing attention in a family full of boys in a tradition where boys reign number one. I remember her working with me in the kitchen at our restaurant trying to hush her from belting a ballad in fear of driving away customers. How was I to know that little voice would later fill arenas? Despite her fame now I am not ashamed of discouraging her when she admitted to Dimitri and myself of her plans to pursue a singing career. I told her a flat out no. I told her she is in America now, she should go to college where she won't have to sing for strange men to give her money. But she refused to go with any other plan. I still remember her sitting in front of me in the visitation room. Her big blue eyes, my eyes staring back at me. "Mamushka you can't change my mind I'm doing this. I'm meeting with the agent tomorrow to see if he will sign with me. He thinks I have a chance. I have to do this." I grimaced. "You don't know what they will do to you in that business" I whispered. "You don't know what I'm capable of" Anya shot back. I closed my eyes in frustration and rubbed my head. "I assume your father approves of this" I groaned. "I wore him down" she replied with a smirk. "Thats because he sad and weak" I huff "But it's not his fault I guess. He is a man." Anya smiles. "Im going to meet with him Mamushka. If he says no. I'll come here next week and I'll just continue my night classes. Deal?" She says as she rests a hand on mine. "There is no deal" I growled "You are twenty-one. You want to ruin your life you do that on your own." Anya smiled unfazed by my glare. I think she's always been the only one in the world unfazed even by my cruelest glare. "You little shit." I sigh. "I love you too" she replies.

What do you know? He signed her. She spent a year in the back of our kitchen writing songs and making phone calls. She started to do shows for nobody, then someone, then a few people, then many. Until one day someone in the crowd videotaped her singing and she became a hit over night. Soon, I would be lounging in my bunk listening to the radio and my daughters voice would waft into my ears. I had to blink away tears before anyone could notice as I would say "You little shit. You wonderful little shit." I wouldn't see her for a couple months at a time due to her jetting off somewhere to do a show or be interviewed. We decided together that I would not announce that was my baby on the radio, I mean who would believe me? With our ties in the mafia and me in prison Anya was sure to be very private about her family life which only made people want to to dig for more information on her. But she did a splendid job skirting probing questions and getting the right people to cover up what we could. But then one day the article came out. In a tell all expose there was a picture of my dear Anya in a long wig and a hat sitting with me in the visitation room. Soon all the wrong people put two and two together and all of our secrets were put on the covers of magazines. Her people were very crafty in spinning the story to keep Anya in a good light. Not to mention my dear girl paid half her fortune to keep all of our mafia connections out of the news and happy enough not to hurt us back. I can't imagine what jobs they have my poor girl doing just to keep my family alive. It makes me sick and boil with hate. But what can I do? Im an old woman wasting away in a prison. After many months of silence Anya decided fine she'll talk but she'll do it on her own terms. So here we are now sitting in a darkened theatre about to watch my daughter spill the beans.

I looked down to avoid any eye contact and feel Nicky sit next to me. "You ok Ma?" Nicky asked. I shrug. "Hey its ganna be fine. Everyone will be all excited about it and then people forget about it in a couple weeks" she assures me. "I don't have two weeks worth of patience" I grumble. "It'll be fine." She repeats. "Im not ready for this Nicky" I whisper. I look up to her and I could see the concern etched on her face. "Ah ma" is all she could manage. We glance forward knowing we're being watched. Two of the methheads are staring at us mumbling to one another. "Eh!" Nicky calls out "Thelma and Louise the shows upfront! Sit the fuck down!" The two scowl at her but take a seat.

As soon as everyone was seated Mr. Healy stood at the front. "Listen uh.." he began nervously "the only reason we are allowing you to see this is to put an end to all the rumors and the harassment of one of our inmates". I rolled my eyes with a groan as the room glanced back at me. But I looked up to see the white haired gentleman giving me an apologetic smile. "So I need you all to pay attention, be quiet and act like the fine upstanding ladies I know you can be." Some hollered quick retorts but mostly everyone kept quiet eager to see the show. The lights were switched off, the screen came alive and the soft notes of my daughters voice filled the room. I let in a shuddered breath and Nicky took my hand.

The first shot was of a serious, well polished reporter explaining the quick rise of my child's career and how she stole the hearts of many. I gazed on as flashes of my daughter performing on stage, signing autographs and hugging fans glinted across the screen. I knew she was a big deal but I was still in shock to witness at what magnitude her success had become. Before I could process much the pictures faded into a shot of a little restaurant. "I forgot what a shit hole that place is." I whispered. Nicky let out a snort. Anya stepped out of the door and greeted the reporter. She did look lovely.

She was dressed plainly in jeans and a black turtleneck. She looked thin though. She hid it well but I could tell she had her tired eyes. The two women hugged and Anya lead the reporter into the tiny establishment. I bit back a growl when I witnessed the state of the interior. The lighting looked dimer, the signs were fading and nothing looked as carefully arranged as I had left it. The reporter was greeted by all three of my boys and Dimitri standing in a military line in front of the counter. She shook their hands and kissed their cheeks. None of my boys looked to pleased to be on camera but Dimitri beamed like a christmas tree. In a cheesy voice over the reporter explained of how Dimitri and I immigrated after the death of my parents and we established our own little shop shortly after. I watched my daughter lead the reporter to the back kitchen as she said so lightly "I thought we could cook together before we sit down for the heavy stuff." The reporter laughed as she took her place by my daughters side.

"What are we cooking today?" the reporter asked cheerfully, playing towards the camera. I could hear a low groan throughout the audience at the gaudiness of this woman. "Well, depends" Anya replied "Do you want sweet or savory?" I watched as my daughter put on an apron, my apron and wrap it around her waist. "Why is she so thin?" I asked myself. I didn't realize I had voiced my thoughts aloud until Nicky gave me another light squeeze. "How about something sweet" the reporter chirped. "Ok well how about we make Syrniki" Anya suggested. "Oh whats that!?" the reporter inquired a bit overzealously. "Its these dough disks with sweetened cottage cheese and fruit. I like it because it's not to sweet but sweet enough." Anya answered. "Oh wonderful!" The reporter exclaimed. Soon the cooking was underway and the two women worked cheerfully together. She kneaded the dough a little to roughly, the filling was a little to close to the sides and she may have cooked the pastries a half a minute to long but to honest she did a good job.

The two women quickly finished up their treats and the light hearted tone began to dissipate. The shot then cut to Anya sitting on the couch in her apartment.

She looked nice so well lit and calmly waiting for the barricade questions. The reporter stared at my daughter with a solemn expression. "Anya" she said solemnly "It's no secret that you and your family have been under fire these past few weeks. Tell me. Is it because of your parents dark past why you have been known for your aversion to open up before?" I let out a scoff. Dark past? Who is this bitch. "I guess you could say that but it actually wasn't as big of a role as you think" Anya responded thoughtfully "I just wanted it to be about my music not about me. I guess I wanted to be seen as a musician before known as a celebrity." The reporter nodded in thought. "Lets go back in time to your childhood. Would you say you were a happy child?" The woman pressed. "I would say yeah. I would imagine I was like any child. I loved to sing since I could first learn to speak, I had hobbies, I was beat up by my older brothers all the time." Anya sighed "I helped at the restaurant a lot but I never felt over worked or forced into the business. Yeah pretty normal." The reporter nodded again with a raised eyebrow clearly taking the answer with a grain of salt. The reporter took in a breath and the silence was deafening. I watched my daughter smile oddly.

"I think you should go a head and ask it" my daughter said cooly. "Ask what?" The reporter asked slightly aghast. For the first time the reporter's reaction didn't seem so well practiced. "About when my mother was arrested."

Again the silence was deafening as the camera eased in closer to my daughters face. She was looking down. I couldn't see her eyes. I could feel every fiber in my being screaming to see her eyes. "All right then" The reporter replied "You were seven when your mother was arrested for her ties with the Russian mafia". "Yes. I was" Anya confirmed. "That must have been very traumatic." The reporter stated calmly. "It was hard on all of us, yes." Anya replied. "Take us back to the day. Take us back to the day when your mother was arrested at your restaurant." My daughter looked up. My grip tightened in Nicky's. There was a look in my child's eyes that I have not seen in decades. I could recognize that look. At first the look is blank like no one is there, but then I start to see a darkness dancing with the lights twinkling in her eyes, the light and dark in a long practiced waltz of desperation. I witnessed so much light in my daughters eyes but there was that unrelenting waltz in her eyes. It was a waltz I had seen in the eyes of my mother when she took her last breathes, it was the waltz I had seen in Dimitri's when the head men would come knocking at our door for another job, it was a waltz I had seen so many times in the mirror. It was a waltz of despair.

They cut to commercial break.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ma you ok?" Nicky asked as the inmates settled into conversation during the break. I took a moment to realize I had to respond tearing my eyes from the screen. "Im fine" I stated back coldly "Why would I not be fine?" I kept my usual growl but my Nicky could read me so well. The mousy girl scrunched her face. "Its just…its pretty fuckin' shitty having to listen to your kid tell everyone how you ended up in this dump." Nicky replied. "I knew this was going to happen" I replied returning my gaze to the front. I couldn't look at her. I couldn't look at the one person here who could see right through me. "You sure you all right hun?" Frida the octopus tattooed golden oldie and one of my most recent right hand man asked from my other side. "You're lookin' a little paler than usual…..and you're pretty pale to begin with." Frida huskily stated. I usually would have biting retort but I just didn't have it in me. So I gave he a solid glare. She didn't look to alarmed but shut up after that. The music of the program came alive and many inmates loudly shushed one another. The reporter stood in front of a large screen depicting videos of my daughters work as shown earlier on. The woman gave a quick recap of what happened before and we were back to Anya on the couch, her eyes dancing with despair and the question is asked once more "What happened the day your mother was arrested?"

Anya continued her stare for just a moment longer until she took a deep breath and looking into a distant memory. "My mamushka and I were cooking in the back of the kitchen as always. Papa was in the front with the customers." she smiles sadly "He's a ham. He loves entertaining people. He's happiest there." The reporter leaned just ever so slightly forward in her seat, just a centimeter, the rest of the inmates followed suit. "I think the police came into the front of restaurant. I remember suddenly looking up to see two big men in uniforms coming into the back. I was confused. No one is allowed in the back except for Mamushka and I. I remembered trying to tell them that but they didn't really listen to me." Anya stopped suddenly. "That must have been so jarring for you. You were so young." The reporter pressed. "Yes." my daughter breathed "What surprised me is Mamushka didn't shoo them out or demand an explanation. She just stood so still." The reporter frowned finally smart enough not to interrupt.

Anya looked up to the other woman almost pleading. "I think thats when I knew something was up. You never step into my mother's kitchen without her permission. Her kitchen is sacred. Her kitchen is like another baby of hers but more than that. The kitchen is…..the kitchen is my mother."

"Man she got that right." Nicky mumbled beside me. A rumble of agreement vibrated through the crowd until one of the officers hushed us.

"So they arrested her? Right there in front of you?" The reporter asked. "They had a job to do." Anya stated so matter-of-factly. "What was that like for you? To see your mother in that situation?" she probed. "I don't know. Surreal I guess. I honestly don't remember much. I mostly remember my mother just looking at the officers and standing so still like a statue. I think she knew the moment was coming for sometime she just didn't know when." Anya said softly "Then after that it all goes blurry. I think my papa just took me upstairs into our home before I could see them drive away."

My heart sank. I remember it all. I remember my little girl's voice so defiantly asking for answers from the officers and the way they just stared me down. I remember one officer pulling my daughter away from my side as the other produced the handcuffs. I remember my three boys watching with ill hidden tears as they led me into the car and hearing my little Anya's cries as she realized that she burnt the pirozhkis because her mother wasn't there to remind her to take them out of the oven. I remember it all much more clearer than I would like to.

"How did your father explain to you that your mother wasn't coming home?" The reporter asked as she watched my daughter stare into the faces of her past. "I think he tried to shield me from it all. He tried to make it a fairytale that she went off to cook in a palace or something but my brothers gave me the cold hard truth pretty quickly." Anya let out a small laugh. "After my brother Vissaly told me Ma went to prison because she committed crime and she wasn't coming back I kept getting nightmares. The first few nightmares he would get a good whoopin' and he would have to make me tea to calm me down. Weirdly though that made us become best friends. He could read my mind after a while. I would start to get these awful dreams on Mama dying in a dungeon and I would wake up to Vissally sitting on my bed with my cup of tea. Usually at night Vissally would go off to cause mischief with his buddies but from then on he was there to give me tea when the nightmares would come."

I smiled a little at that. Vissally could be such a little shit. He had been a pain in our ass since his first cries in the delivery room but I thank god there was someone who had the power to at least keep him reigned in.

The reporter smiled as well before asking "Do you think you and your brothers were brought closer because of your parents tragedy?" Anya licked her lips. "I think we would be close no matter what. We grew up in a tough neighborhood. So everyone in that neighborhood stayed close to who they love. But yes I guess you could say it made us rely on one another a lot for a while there." I could see that flicker of interest in the reporters eyes. She knew she was on a hot trail to make the interview juicy. "You say you were in a tough neighborhood." she stated carefully "Are you referring to the activity of the russian mob?" Anya sighed. "It's no secret that this area is pretty much run by those guys. Im not really blowing the lid off anything there. The police know this is mob turf. The locals know its mob turf. Its been this was for a very long time." The reporter nodded "So when did you really start to learn about your parents involvement with the mafia?" Anya's lips pressed into a thin line and disappeared behind her teeth to pop back out again. It wasn't until I made a light popping noise that I realized I was doing the same. She was on thin ice here. Thankfully she made enough of a deal with the big boys that talking about them gave the boys their fifteen minutes of fame. They could really spend their time talking around the block about their connection with a big time celebrity. But if to much is said they lose their credibility and Anya will be the first to know. When talking about our connection with the mob it's the same deal. If she says just enough it will both please her audience and the mob to show what power the connection she has. If just enough is said both parties can use rumors to work in their favor but to much information can spin everything out of control. Everything was at stake there. Everything Anya loved dearly hung in the balance, her career, her family, her livelihood and her safety. The guilt washed over me in waves as I watched my girl turn a lighter shade of white. All she wanted to do was sing and all because of her parents doing she may lose everything.

"When I was young I just knew that my mother was tied up in something bad and she had to go away because of that. It wasn't until I was about fifteen or so that I really started to understand what the deal was when I had to help papa run the business from a more financial stand point. Before I say more you have to understand I can't say a whole lot for my safety and most importantly for my family's safety. Ok?" Anya said sternly. "Of course" The reporter confirmed eagerly. "In this neighborhood…from what I know…they own a lot" Anya explained "So when you have a business and family to take care of here. You just have to make a deal with them. My parents weren't some crazy russian assassins as they have been rumored to be or high rolling drug lords. They were just in agreement of business with them. They were just…..on their radar I guess. In that sense thats all I can say." There was a pause after Anya's response. "They were being watched by the mafia?" The reporter asked. "I wouldn't say we were bugged or anything. But yes they know of our place and who we are." Anya replied. "Would you say that people in your neighborhood make deals with the mafia to survive?" she probed. "I would say….I guess you could say that yes." Anya replied carefully. "Our producers pulled your mother's court case from public records. It says your mother was arrested as an accomplice to premeditated murder. Do you think this murder was a deal your parents had to make to survive?" the woman pressed. "I know very little about what happened. I just know when a deal is made it's only kept between the two business partners. Even my dad doesn't know completely about the deal my mother had. I just know that in their hearts my parents were just trying to take care of their family so they did what they thought was the only choice they had and that was to make a deal. Thats all I know. Thats all the information I can give you about her deal and we are going to leave it at that" my daughter answered firmly. I could see the reporter let out an inaudible sigh clearly wanting more but by the half glare Anya was giving it was clear it was all she was getting. I was proud of her. That wonderful shit. That wonderful little shit. She performed beautifully. She stated the rules the boys would tell to anyone to curious and made sure that the bosses remained intimidating but not barbaric. She did well.

The defeated reporters gaze somewhat narrowed as she leaned in even more "Anya your mother has spent most of your life behind bars is that correct?" My daughter simply nodded. "How did your family cope in her absence?" Anya thought for a moment before responding "I admit papa took it hard, very hard. He went into a depression without Ma and wouldn't get out of bed for a few months. So I think each of us kids took over for a while. My oldest brother Yuri kind of became a second parent. He always made sure the store was running and we had food on the table. My brother Maxim worked odd little jobs away from us for days at a time to keep us a float. So then it was up to me and Vassily to take care of the home. Vassily hated doing girl jobs but he was fine cleaning as long as I cooked and took care of dad. Its funny no body said you do this and you do that we all just fell into our roles." The reporters eyebrows raised "You grew up fast." Anya nodded

"Im going to castrate that man! If only he had balls!" I hissed to Nicky. "Down Red." she warned "That's ancient history now." Ancient history or not I was livid. No child should be taking care of their parent like that. I needed my husband to care for my children in my absence and as I watched the interview I can say without a doubt that he failed.

"It seems like you became your own mother in a sense." The reporter said quietly. My daughter made no response but the agreement was etched on her face. "With only one parent in the house. With you taking on so much responsibility did you or do you still consider your mother a mother figure in your life?" Anya once again glanced down for a long moment and looked back up with tears twinkling in her eyes but a fierce stare. "You know I have been asked that a lot in my life." Anya stated "She has been gone for so long. Missed so much. Seen so little. What grants her the title of mother? I have thought of that a lot."

My breath stilled. Both Nicky's and Frida's hands gripped mine.

"But she is my mother. She raised me until I was seven by my side and then when she had to go she raised me from afar. She has called me on every birthday, every big moment, she wrote me the most beautiful letter when my friend died in a car crash when I was sixteen, she lets me know when Im being an idiot and she lets me know when Im doing a good job. Even if she didn't do that I know she went to prison just trying to protect her children. What mother wouldn't go to hell to save her kids?" Anya looked at the reporter with a scrutinizing look before her face softened and she continued. "You know she does this thing. There are girls there who are lost so she takes care of them and they call her mom. So for however long they are in there she's their mom. When I was younger I admit I would get jealous. I would get very jealous. I would think how dare you call her mom. Why do you get to call her mom when I…when I…" her voice cracked and a few tears fell "when I have her eyes and cook her recipes and make sure her husband takes his heart meds. How dare you call her mom when she should only be my mom. But then over time some of the girls would get out and find us. They would explain how they are getting over terrible drug addictions and dealing with their mental problems head on thanks to her. Some of them even worked for us for a bit and I realized that she was still my mom even locked away. She will always be but a mom has to be mom somehow so she loved them with her hands while she still loved me with her heart. So by doing that she is more than just MY mother figure she's THE mother figure. I will always love her for that." The reporter smiled sweetly "That's beautiful Anya." My angel smiled back "It's the truth".

"I would love to speak with your family after the break" The reporter replied. "Sounds good" my daughter responded warmly.

They cut to commercial break.


	3. Chapter 3

This time no one said a word to me. I could feel more eyes on me but I didn't care. I sat still as my daughters words wafted between my ears. I didn't deserve her kind words. I will never regret my girls here with me, they have been the brightest spot since my arrest. But I realized there was such a cruelty in how I became the mother hen here without asking for my daughters blessing. I didn't even bother to think that not only did I take away the chance for her to grow up with a mother I shared what measly portions we had left of a maternal relationship with every lost soul that walked through the door. I closed my eyes and flashed back to my first memory of spending real time with Anya. I lay in my hospital bed with my brand new daughter mewling against my breast. She was so small and so fragile. Despite the slight chill in the room I slowly eased off her cap and lightly pressed my lips against her scalp. I breathed her in and savored her smell. My darling Anya was only an hour and a half old, yet I felt I knew her so well. I wished I took more time to savor her, to savor all four of them. I didn't know my time with them would be so limited. I felt my chest tighten as the cold realization dawned on me that I never deserved my daughter. I never deserved any of my children.

The program music swelled and no one had to be hushed this time. A series of short clips from the interview flashed before us, driving in all that my daughter had revealed. Once again Anya reappeared on screen perched on her couch only this time with Dimitri and Vissally sitting on either side of her. I watched as my daughter pat my husbands arm and ask him softly in our native tongue "Are you all right papa?". Her father smiled back at her warmly as he patted her hand "I am fine my angel" he replied. Anya turned to her brother and they gave each other a playful nudge.

"Thank you both for speaking with us today." The reporter chirped "Mr Reznicov you must be so proud of your daughter's accomplishments and at such a young age." My husband beamed. "Please call me Dimitri." he replied happily "Yes so happy. We are so happy and proud of our Anya." He grabbed my daughter's hand and their palms clasped resting on her knee. "The last two years must have been such a whirlwind for you since your daughters career has sky rocketed. Tell me, how has this effected your family?" The reporter asked warmly. "Our Anya has always sang. She always wanted to sing. So I guess we are not surprised she has so many who want her to sing. We miss her when she has to go so far away to work but we know she is happy. So we are happy. We are very happy." Dimitri replied. The reporter smiled and turned to my son. "And you? Has your life changed now that you have such a famous sister?" My son blushed slightly and gave a slight shrug finally with a quiet "Yeah. Guess so." Anya just laughed before nudging him proudly stating "I think he's won himself a couple hot girlfriends down at the clubs when my songs come on." I watched as my son's blush only deepened causing for everyone to chuckle both on and off screen. A couple inmates gave out a whoop before the officers threatened to turn off the show if there were any more unnecessary commentary.

"Has this effected your business ever since the fans have found out where Anya grew up?" The reporter probed. Dimitri's smile widened as he nodded. "Yes! Yes! Business is so crazy! Many people come to take pictures and we sell so many pirozhkis it is unbelievable! It is very crazy" he exclaimed. "We did have to start paying some of the bigger guys in the neighborhood to come act as security. Some of the fans can get a little…excited." Anya explained "The police offered to have officers stick around but I think I like us giving some of the local kids a chance to earn some money and stay out of trouble." Vissally nodded solemnly but remained silent. "Yes, and with so many nice russian boys around our business perhaps I can find a nice boy for my Anya to marry." Dimitri boasted. "Papa no." Vissally groaned and Anya took her turn to blush. "Im sure you have received many proposals by now." The reporter laughed. "Yes." My daughter replied "But I think Im just going to concentrate on singing now." I smiled happy to know she wasn't rushing into life as I tried to at her age. Now look where that got me.

The reporter's face changed into a solemn look. "As I spoke with Anya before, your family has been under quite a bit of scrutiny since the expose on your ties with the russian mafia and the incarceration of your wife Galina Reznicov." The light in all three of my loved ones faces dissipated. The reporter allowed a moment to gauge the reaction from her subjects before continuing, "Did you know this information would come out after Anya's rise to fame?" Dimitri tried to speak but he looked unsure. His face scrunched as he searched for what to say. "We knew." Vissally stated "But I guess that Ma has been gone for so long we forgot it would be a big deal." The reporters brow furrowed. "But it's the mafia. You had to know that people would find this fascinating." Dimitri continued to scrunch up his face in confusion. I rolled my eyes at my spouse's incompetence. "Is Dimitri having a stroke?" Nicky asked as she leaned over and whispered into my ear. "He looks like a retarded eggplant." I grumbled. "I guess but this is life here in our neighborhood. Its just….everyday." Vissally explained. "But when Anya told you she wanted to be in the public didn't you worry she would bring attention to well kept secrets?" The reporter pressed. "Yeah. But she did nothing wrong. Why should we keep her from singing?" Vissally replied defensively.

"I was a bit foolish" Anya piped up as tears filled her eyes once more "I was very careful about being quiet about my life and no one really knew my last name anywhere in my business except for my manager and payroll. I thought if I kept quiet then nothing would be uncovered. I was foolish. I didn't mean to bring on anything….I didn't mean to.…" Tears rolled down her pale cheeks that were immediately wiped away from her fathers thumb "No. No my angel." Dimitri cooed in russian to my weeping child. The reporter handed her a box of tissues before asking "Anya. Do you fear that your mother's past will effect your career?" My daughter looked at the reporter, the camera then back to her. Her fresh tears had washed away her steely facade. I watched my daughter take a shuddered breath. The room was dead quiet. No one spoke on screen. My daughter hiccuped as two more tears trickle down her splotchy cheeks. This was my daughter. Not the recording artist, not the dutiful child, not the stone faced celebrity splattered about the tabloids. No. This is my daughter raw and real. Before millions of viewers my child was emotionally naked and void of all walls. Finally she spoke and air I breathed felt as though it was laidened with lead. "My mother…." her voice was small but strong "What my mother did has already effected my career. What mother did effected my entire life. This one mistake she made branded her for the rest of her life and has branded me the rest of my life. Through the eyes of the world I will always be a criminal's child. But when Im singing Im owned by no one and when Im writing my songs Im me. I don't know why my mother did what she did. Only she can give you that answer. But I know that she is a good person who did a bad thing. I know that I am a good artist who can get through bad things. So at the end of the day yeah what my mother did will effect my career but I don't want to let her mistake end it."

The reporter leaned back as my daughters declaration hung in the air before asking "Why did you decide to do this interview?" Anya looked back at her tears still trickling down her face. "To tell the truth. To stop some of the rumors". Anya replied. "But you haven't told us very much" The reporter retorted "Your mother is in prison for premeditated murder. Your shop is under close watch of the russian mob. We have just discovered your last name within the past month of a two year high profile career. Why is that? What has been going on here?"

To my surprise Dimitri finally spoke up. "I can tell you more about the deal my Galina and I made many year ago." He said timidly "But only so much." The reporter nodded for him to continue. My husband turned to see his children who stared back at him with warning glances. He simply patted my daughters hand the way he would when she would get scared of the monsters at night. He would just pat her hand so she would know its all over now, your papa will take care of it.

"When Galina and I first came to America we had nothing. No money and no family. We had no idea what to do. But I knew how to run shop so that is what I did. I opened shop. The trouble was…we had just defected and we were still waiting for new papers. But I opened shop anyways. We had no family, no money, no country but we had shop. We were so…so nothing that nobody really questioned us. But one day police started to search our neighborhood and we were scared. Galina was soon to have first baby. She was sick too. I was scared. Then one day men came to our door saying that they could make the police leave us alone and even help with doctor as long as we help them later. They were very good at….explaining deals. I was scared and my beautiful Galina…she needed help so I agreed."

I leaned back in my seat. A few inmates glanced back at me. The younger ones with questioning looks. The older ones with pity. I remember it in fuzzy images. I was standing in our little shoe box of a house making dinner when I felt pain, an odd pain and suddenly light headed. Suddenly I was on the floor. I heard my husband yelling at me as he clasped my face into his meaty hands. I remember looking down to see blood only to lose consciousness. I spent two weeks in the hospital. The stress of immigrating had my little one decide to vacate early but my lack of nutrition made my body to weak for a sudden birth. Apparently somewhere a blood vessel popped and I started to bleed out. Dimitri would appear at my bed side looking more and more haggard as he would stroke my hand. I would try to argue that we couldn't afford the treatment and we had just to accept the impending death of our child. But he would just assure me everything was ok and he had figured it out. It was not until after Yuri was born I discovered that we had signed our souls to the devil. We were to poor for them to bully money out of us so for nearly ten years we became their errand boy and just as everyone else ordered to we turn a blind eye.

"So they exploited your struggle to get what they wanted" The reporter concluded. Dimitri glanced at the camera. "No" he replied "My first son lived. We have our shop for twenty years now." I watched as Vissally and Anya glance at one another. He may have said to much. The thin ice was beginning to crack under the pressure. "What was your side of the deal?" The reporter inquired. "I can't say" Dimitri replied. "Are you still in the deal?" she pressed. "I can't say. But we have not been contacted much since Galina left." Dimitri replied. My husbands face fell a little more. "This deal. It has nothing to do with our children. They were never involved. They are good kids. Such good kids." He looked at them "I love my kids."

I watched as my husband absently stroke my daughters hand and look so lovingly to the two young souls sitting next to him. I may not have been around my husband much over many years. But any wife knows her husband and Dimitri was anything but subtle. Many years ago my husband and I had made a deal with the devil. It appears to me that in exchange for my daughters livelihood the devil wanted a soul for payment. But the question loomed over me of was it my husband's soul they wanted? Or mine?


	4. Chapter 4

My children shifted uncomfortably atop my daughters couch as my husband stared down at his hands. "Mr Reznicov" The Reporter asked slowly "Did your wife go to prison as part of a deal with the mafia?" My husband did not move a muscle. The room let out an inaudible gasp. Dimitri looked up with his large child like eyes. "That deal" He said quietly "That deal was made only between Galina and the bosses. Only she knows whatever price had to be paid." Dimitri looked back down. "Paid for what?" The Reporter pushed excitedly "Nearly a life in prison as a price must have been for something pretty big." Dimitri for once remained unmoved. "You have to have at least an idea." My husband was mute. "At least a small idea. You worked with these people for twenty years!" The Reporter's voice raised an octave as she slowly inched closer to breaking professionalism. The woman's eyes flinted between each face of my family members before landing onto the confused face of my daughter. "Anya. This is your time to tell the world your story. Your truth. This is why we are here. This is your chance to tell us what crime your mother committed not only to the state but to your family. "

A pained croak escaped my inmates shifted in their seats sensing the tension coming into play. "The fuck this broad think she is?" Nicky huffed. Frida let out a disapproving grunt. I glanced up to even see Healy crossing his arms over his gut with a disapproving scowl.

There was a silence. Anya remained in a frozen state of confusion. Vissally's face slowly dropped shades of red into almost crimson. "Nyet! No!" Dimitri growled "You gone to far!" Both Dimitri and Vissally began to lurch forward before Anya's hands clutched both their arms and with the magic I never had, both immediately cooled down. "How about the boys take off their mics. I think they have said their peace." Anya suggested never moving her eyes away from the woman seated before her. "Ok" The woman replied. Both men looked at my daughter in confusion but in some secret language of glances she persuaded them to silently remove their mics and leave the frame without a fuss. There was another pause of silence as the reporter watched my daughter, clearly thrown off course. "You want to know the crime committed against me?" Anya asked cooly. The reporter nodded. My daughter looked off into the distance as she traced her lips with a slender finger until the corner of her mouth curved into a crooked smile. "You know its kind of weird being raised in a visiting room." she said to no one as she continued her gaze. "For an hour every sunday my mother would raise me. Tried to. There were two other kids there from my school who had a mom locked up. We would meet up before we were let in and…" she let out a laugh "Oh shit what did we call ourselves? The Litch…The Litchfield Littles. Yeah I liked them. But then their mom was released and it got pretty lonely without them. It was weird not having someone else there anymore who gets being raised in visiting room." Anya looked up to see a reporter and probably a whole camera crew staring at her. "Sorry. The story you want a story."

My chest felt tight and the blood in my ears began to rush. Something in me just knew that a beast bigger than myself was about turn its ugly head.

"When I say I really don't know exactly why my mother is in prison I really don't. I know that she was involved with attempted murder while working with the mob. But just as you, the whole story is unknown to me. But as I got older I did try to do some research of my own. I tried talking to my mother about it but she kept quiet. Actually most of the moms were quiet about their crime to us Litchfield Littles. I think they were embarrassed. So I started to dig and talk to people in my neighborhood. All the adults were quiet so it was a few other kids that aren't smart enough to always keep their head down. Almost every store owner in a ten mile radius has some deal set up, some are just bugged for a couple weeks and some have their job to do for decades. Its weird. A lot of my research was just gossiping with other kids about whats going on with their parents. I started to notice is that when we all started to come to age slowly the boys of our group would dissapear at times only to return just as silent as our parents. But us girls we were pretty much ignored, its just how our society is when you come from traditional families. All that I could really learn was that some families seemed to be chosen. They all started the same, they were desperate and made a deal. But some families did their part and that was that. But some families they just….couldn't seem to ever be finished with their deal. I guess sometimes the mob just sees potential in people and makes sure not to let them go. By now you can tell we were one of those families." Anya paused to take a breath.

Air no longer existed. I began to understand where mydisappear daughter was starting to head to but I didn't want to believe it.

"Over time all the boys took their rightful place as head of their house holds and stopped talking to me all together. Then most of my girlfriends took their rightful place beside their new husbands and got quiet as well. So I just went back to working on my music but I never stopped observing everyone. I noticed the men could get up and meet with the bosses in the restaurants about the neighborhood and if lucky the women get a greeting before being shooed away. But sometimes some women caught their eye…they became chosen women. I noticed there were two kinds of chosen women" Anya held up two fingers as the usually chipper reporter just gazed in suspense. "There were women who could serve at the table and very very rarely there were women who could sit at the table." The reporter's eyes grew as she asked "So your mothers crime is that she sat at the table?" Anya's crooked smile returned "No. My mother's crime is that she spoke at the table and she can speak loudly."

A group of the black girls let out a low "oooooooooh" in excitement but surprisingly no one hushed them.

"But I guess they liked what she said because she sat and spoke at their table for sometime" Anya said proudly before her face fell. "The trouble is that I noticed something else. I guess being a noticeable woman can go down the bloodline. I noticed that some of my girl friends who's fathers sat at the table and had an…appealing appearance got some extra attention from the younger men at the table. They were treated to lavish presents but they had to earn them in private. I don't think anyone was forced into any dangerous situations but they were persuaded. Many times when you have an appealing appearance it shows at a young age." Anya suddenly stopped speaking. The room fell silent. The reporter asked softly "Did you have an appealing appearance at a young age?" Anya simply nodded.

My stomach turned and my blood ran cold. "Oh honey" mournfully cooed one of the older inmates behind me.

"Were you ever approached because of your early appearance?" The Reporter probed carefully. "When I was young and cooking with my mother sometimes they would stop by to speak with her. They would look at me for a moment and always compliment me on what a pretty little girl I was." Anya replied. She sat still for a moment as realization washed over her features. Once again tears rolled down her cheeks. "My mother wasn't the only one who committed a crime" she wept "I was the one who committed a crime against this family."

Another pained groan exited my lips. I could feel bile in my throat slowly building up.

"What crime?" The reporter asked. It was subtle but I could tell my daughter was starting to tremble. "I couldn't figure out why so many of my friends were being approached with little deals by the boys in my neighborhood and I wasn't. I was relieved but confused until I noticed only one other girl wasn't either. That one other girl had a mother who spoke at tables as well. I started to talk with her and we figured it out. Our lives were just to parallel to not have it make sense. Both of our mothers had girls that were to pretty for their own good, both of them were speaking at tables and both of them made deals that not even their husbands knew much about." Anya's tears came down faster as her voice shook and I sat there helpless as I watched my daughter crumble before me. "My mother was committing crimes before I was born but I think….I think her reasoning changed when I started to grow…I think she was…she loved me enough to." The reporter sat in shock as my daughter sobs began to rack her small frame but somehow Anya calmed herself before she was in consolable. "Anya" The Reporter urged as she placed a hand on my daughters knee "Take a deep breath. What are you trying to tell us." A shuddered breath or two later two blue eyes pierced into my very being. "Im sorry" Anya said softly. "It's ok" The Reporter replied "Anya are you trying to say that your mother's crime was her way of protecting you?" My daughter nodded. "I think she….made a deal." Anya said mournfully "I think she made a deal to protect me. I don't even know all from what exactly. I don't want to know. But I realize that my mother's crime was against the law but my crime was against my mother. In a way by being attractive to powerful people I ruined my mother's life and my families life."

"No. No. NO. NO." my mind cried out to my child. Oh my girl. My perfect little girl. You have done nothing wrong. I ruined it all. I ruined everything. I had no idea she was carrying around so much guilt.

"Im sure your mother doesn't think that" The Reporter replied softly. Anya smiled sadly. "Im sure she doesn't. But I can't help how I feel." My daughter replied "Thats why Im trying my best to be someone good for my fans. My fans are my everything. I hope my music can help them out in ways I can't help my mother. I love my mother. I love my family. I love my fans. I just hope we are all going to be ok." The Reporter's smiled fully before responding "I think we will. Thank you for speaking with us today." My daughter smiled back "Thank you". My daughter faded away from the screen to the reporter looking into the camera as she did in the very first shot. The woman informed us that I had been asked to be interviewed but declined before listing my parole hearing and a few more thank you's from Anya.

The screen faded to black and the credits rolled.

My poor Anya. The pain I witnessed in her eyes was beyond any capacity a mother could bear to witness. My daughter was in agony because of my choices thinking it was her fault. How long did she think this? She wasn't supposed to know what would have been planned for her. The girls were picked off and promised to the boys at the table. The women were a reward for a hefty job. If you killed a man or stole just enough you were earned a I thought I had left these barbaric acts when he came to America but I was wrong. That kind of greed and that kind of evil it follows you. It followed me across the seas and sadly into my daughters life.

I just sat there and for how long I don't know. Reality was no longer in existence. I floated on nothing. I felt nothing.

That was until the screen switched off and I was greeted by the familiar beige blank face of the projector screen. "Ma" a small voice called out to me "Ma it's ok. Its all over. It's ok." It was Nicky. Slowly, I was awakened from my haze of despair. I became aware of the shuffling around me. I realized one of my hands were clamped over my mouth as hot tears soaked my cheeks. I felt Nicky's hand rub circles on my back as I attempted to stifle the agonizing cries exiting my lips. I must have looked like a mess. Im sure my twenty year steely reputation cracked with each cry my raw throat reverberated but my body continued its spasms with no respect for my demands. I continued to attempt to calm my self down as the inmates were shooed out of the room, even Nicky despite her many protests.

Finally. I looked up. I was alone in the suddenly spacious room with a solemn Mr Healy sitting directly in front of me and two silent CO's standing off to the side. He handed me a cup of water. "Drink slowly" He ordered. I did. We remained that way for a while. "You got to say something Red" he murmured. "What is there to say?" I croaked back. I glanced up to the clock. It was nearing eight at night. "Shit. I missed bed count." I sighed. "They know you're here." Healy assured me "How are you feeling?" I looked up at him and shrugged weakly. Another minute passed by. "I should get to bed" I offered weakly "I have to get up early for meal prep." I stood and so did Healy. "Galina" he said softly. I looked up surprised. I can count on my hands how many times I've been called by my given name on my hands. Its guaranteed to get my attention. The officer looked at me with such intention until his eyes dulled out into a quiet sadness. "You know…you aren't alone here." He stated. I looked up at him for a moment before my eyes wandered off to a large crack forming its way up the wall. "Thats the funny thing about prison" I said wistfully "You're surrounded by people by every minute of every day but you're always alone." I looked back up to my officer. He seemed unsure of what to say. I turned to address the female CO leaning against the wall. "I need to use the restroom first." I stated blandly. I knew my reputation was tarnished but I was not about to walk back to face each wide eyed bunk mate looking like a mess. The CO nodded and we exited the room without a word.


	5. Chapter 5

The florescent light buzzed above me as it flickered its last few breaths of life until my work table was draped in darkness. I let out a frustrated sigh. Before I had to even ask Lorna dropped whatever vegetable she was absently carving a face into and stood. "Ill go get Nicky" Lora announced before scurrying out the room. I smiled inwardly at the usually clingy girl so quick to exit a room. But I couldn't blame her. It had been two days since the tell all interview of my daughter revealing to the world the failings of her mother and I have been tense ever since. My darling group of girls became my forcefield against prying eyes and probing questions. Any inmate who got within ten feet of me were pounced and interrogated before they could even think to run. I was very thankful to my girls but the most of thank you I could give them was a curt nod and a little present sitting on their bunk at the end of the day. I didn't say much at all. It was as if over night my words were sucked away. My family did call me immediately after but I wouldn't answer and I know their visit would be inevitable but I didn't want to see anyone. The other girls did have a ball with the news crews crowding outside the prison in hopes to get a glimpse of the famous Anya's incarcerated mother. It was a daily bet to see who could get themselves on screen the most despite the thousands of shots the officers were doling out.

I scooped up the potatoes I was peeling and made my way next to my dear friend Norma. Without even looking up Norma stepped to the side allowing me to continue my work in the most lit area in the kitchen. I continued to work as I listened to the sounds around me. It was much more quiet than usual. Of course there were the usual clanks and bangs of utensils creating our next concoction. Naturally, every minute or so there was someone informing their coworker they were coming through with a hot plate or when the next dish needs to be pulled out of the oven. But other than that it was eerily serene. No one said a word to me unless my approval was needed on a dish and usually I would go to them for that. I almost let out a snort when I realized it was probably me that usually made up most of the noise in the kitchen.

"So what needs fixing?" Nicky asked as she stepped through the door way. I turned and pointed to the light. "Blew out" I replied. My voice was so dead. Even to me. The usual force behind each syllable was gone only to be replaced with a dull vibrato. What has happened to me? Has one little interview finally shook down the unshakable Red? I sighed as I returned to the round yellow blobs in my hand. No. It wasn't just a little interview. It was every truth I had carefully avoided presented to me on a silver platter. It was the autopsy on the corpse of the life I used to have. It was the nightmare I dreamt for nearly fifteen years come true. It was reality at its best and it was awful.

Nicky climbed onto the table ordering for Lorna to spot her. I pondered if I should demand for Nicky to take off her shoes but I wasn't sure if grimy socks would be any better. That should have alarmed me when I glanced over to the soles of Nicky's shoes squeaking on the surface of my workstation and I felt no anger. I felt nothing. I didn't feel bad or good. I just felt nothing. I was riding on grey in an endless wash of nothing. But then in that moment as I stared at a woman's tiny feet shift on the table something clicked in me and the peeler in my hand slipped away. All the women turned abruptly from the sound of metal clattering only to see me staring coldly at Nicky's shoes. I was frozen until Nicky's nervous voice broke my concentration. "Uh…Ma?" she asked "You ok?". I looked up to my darling girl and as I gazed into her large, pleading eyes it happened. Finally, after forty eight hours of numb the first wave of pain entered my body. I tore off my apron and ordered Gloria to take over before barreling out the door.

It wasn't long before I got to Healy's office and Im sure I scared the daylights out of him when I slammed the door shut. He looked alarmed seeing some old lady standing in his office shaking and glaring at him. "Red." he said "Whats wrong?". Of course I had an answer that was eloquent, short, and made a perfect point. But all that came out was the same pained squawk I made during Anya's interview. Suddenly, the pain sparked from Nicky's pleading stare returned with force first right into my heart and seeping into my stomach. I leaned over and groaned as tears began to roll down my cheeks. Healy the hero leapt out of his seat and quickly sat me on the tiny couch as he took a seat beside him. I tried to speak but all that came was more tears and more pain. "Talk to me Red" He said to me. "I hurt….I hurt" I moaned like an toddler to its mother. "I know you're hurting" He replied. I shook my head as my tears quickly morphed into sobs. "Her" I wheezed "hurt….her." My hands clutched the front of my jacket as I leaned over more. Flashes of my families somber faces crossed my minds eye but the face that stuck out was my daughters. Her pretty features contorted in confusion and agony. I couldn't reach out to her. I wanted to reach out to my girl and ask for forgiveness but I couldn't. I couldn't comfort her because I was stuck in prison rotting away, just as I have for most of her life.

I tried to breathe but each time my throat constricted more and the pain continued to rise. I could barely hear Healy's low baritone voice calling my name as the blood rushed in my ears. All I could think of was the pain in my chest, what little air I could take in, the pounding in my head. I wondered if it was death. I wondered if I was having a heart attack or was it just a fit of insanity. I didn't care if it was all three I just wanted it to end. I tried to call for help but all that could come from my mouth were short screams.

"Red. It's ok. It's ok." I heard Healy say to me from so far away. I wanted to tell him to shut up but I couldn't respond. "It's ok. You're ok." He continued "Its just a panic attack". I managed to crack open my eyes. Panic attack? That's ridiculous. I couldn't be having a panic attack. That was a made up symptom the confused girls would make when the prison walls would become to much. My throat continued to constrict but an inkling of air was allowed in that time. From the small dash of breath I realized I had to get more air in or I would die. I stared down at the blurred vision of my shoes and tried to concentrate. Another small scream came out but this time it was less shrill. "Good Red. Good." Healy said still far away but I could hear him more clearly. "Keep breathing. You're doing good." He called to me. Another small breath came to me as tears splattered onto my shoes. I imagined my lungs inflating and deflating in a slow easy motion. The pain was still there, searing me, but my mind was able to pull away from it. The small breathes of air became more frequent and this time Healy was closer to me. "Good. You're doing so good." I realized a hand was rubbing circles on my back. Usually I would slap them off immediately but for some reason I didn't want their touch to leave. Slowly one breathe of air started to melt into one another. The throbbing in my head eased down and the pain in my chest subsided but only a small amount. Another sob exited but this time it had more breath. "You got this. Keep breathing." Healy cooed. I think I heard the door open. My breathes stagnate as I realize another person was about to see me in such a state. "What happened?" a females voice asked. "Nothing. She's fine." Healy hissed "Look she's panicking more now." The door slams shut.

I see another pair of shoes, then a knee, then a shoulder. I close my eyes to hide but then I see my daughters face. I try to sit up to get away but my stomach lurches and another sob erupts. "Its ok. Its ok" the woman replied soothingly "Open your eyes. You're doing great." I respond with another heavy sob. Healy's hand continues to stroke my back as I watched droplets splatter onto my shoe. I stare down at my sneakers and start to count the stitches. Each breath felt like fire but slightly less of a struggle. "Great. You're doing so great." they said to me. I continued to count the stitches. I was reaching up to twenty when each breath began to melt into one another. My hands loosened their death grip from the fabric of my jacket. "So proud of you" one of them says. I felt nauseous but less terrified. My sobs ease into whimpers. I tried to sit up but my back ached and I wince. Two sets of hands ease me back up and my eyes look up to see the familiar setting of Healy's office. I don't know how long I was gone but it felt like days. I was still crying but I was breathing. Thanks be to god I was breathing. With a trembling hand I touch my temple. "That was death" I murmured. "Feels like it" the woman replied. I turned to the familiar voice to see the gentle features of Officer Rogers. She was a sweet girl. So eager to help. I gave her six months until the prison wears down her altruistic behaviors. I glanced over to Healy's somber face. "How long?" I asked. "Doesn't matter" Rogers cooed. "Fifteen minutes" Healy retorted. My trembling hands wiped away my tears. "Felt longer" I replied. "What brought this on?" Rogers asked. "What do you think?" Healy hissed. I rolled my eyes. "You want tea?" Rogers asked. "Why are you always asking if she wants tea?" Healy mumbled. "What tea do you have?" I sighed. "Just Earl Grey." Healy responded. I nod.

Rogers takes a step towards Healy's beat up plastic kettle. "I'll make it" Healy growled before standing up and making his way to the desk. As Healy exited the room to fill up on water Rogers handed me a box of tissues and a small compact mirror. For the first time I gave her a small smile. "You want to talk about it?" she asks softly. I don't move. Usually I would claim there was nothing to talk about but by the outburst she had witnessed it didn't seem like a plausible answer. "Haven't felt this nauseous since I was pregnant" I reply. "The tea may help" she said patting my knee as she took a seat next to me. I blow my nose and attempt to open the compact with trembling hands. Rogers reached over and clicked open the device. I lift the mirror to my face and curse in my native tongue. I looked like death. My skin was fading from a deep red to a hot pink, my tears hand smudged my careful eye work into two black blotches with one dark droplet trailing down my right cheek, my lipstick was smudged to almost nothing from the tears and snot. I quickly went to work on cleaning up my face when Healy reentered the room with Norma.

"Oh we're having a party now?" I ask snidely. "Sorry Red but you're kinda loud and your girls were ready to start a riot" Healy replied. "Im fine Norma!" I exclaim "Tell them Im fine!" Norma wavered clearly unconvinced. "Norma" I pleaded. Rogers stood and placed a hand on my silent friend's shoulder. "She'll be fine" Rogers said before leaning in "I get it. She's your girl. I'll take care of her." Norma gave me one more longing glance before darting out the room. Healy plugged in his kettle and set out three cups. The tremble in my hands slowly dissipates as I continue to clean myself up. "So Im loud huh? Guess everyone knows now." I say blandly. "Well it has been ten whole minutes now" Healy replies. I let out a weak chuckle. "And you have been the talk of the town the last few weeks" he continues. "Oh yes. I feel like Madonna" I reply sarcastically. "Must have been a tough couple days for you" Rogers chimes in. I had managed to clean up the worst of my mascara and wiped away what was left of my lipstick. I click the compact shut and hand it to Rogers. "Must have been a tough couple days for your whole family" Rogers pushed. I watched as the steam build up in the tiny container and small bubbles begin to form. I smile sadly. " You know when Anya was only two months old we had one of the worst winters in history and all the pipes burst in our home. Our heating was shit too so for three weeks we lived in all our winter jackets and cuddled close for warmth. So despite their protests I made all the boys learn how to hold Anya so I could know there was always someone to provide her body heat so her little newborn body wouldn't give out." I say dreamily before I let out a snort "I thought I left Russia but sometimes she follows me here. At first the boys hated having to hold Anya but over time they became pros. After a while they would get in knock out fights over who could hold her next. Once Anya got used to the bottle it was as if I wasn't even needed." I crush a wad of tissues in my palm "Three of those kids sure can add up to a good parent for the fourth." The kettle whistled and Healy quickly silenced it. The sound of water pouring into cups was oddly soothing. "Your kids still need you" Rogers assured. I touch my temple again as my chest tightened. "That interview" I whisper. "I know" Healy says as he hands me a cup and begrudgingly another to Rogers.

"They really want to talk to you Red" Healy states as he leaned against his desk. I shake my head. "She really wants to talk to you" he urges. "What is there to say? What could I possibly say?" I retort. "Maybe its not you who needs to do the talking?" Rogers inquired. I said nothing with both the knowledge that she was right and that was what scared me the most. "She's called me at least a hundred times by now" Healy chuckles. "She can be formidable" I reply proudly. "Wonder where she gets that from" he responds with a smile. All three of us look down in silence as we sip our beverages. "I've hurt her" I stated so matter-of-factly "I've hurt her in ways a mamushka never should. When I looked into her eyes…I witnessed….I see the pain that never leaves a persons soul. How do live with that? How do I live with the hurt I have given to my child?" The two officers stood still as they looked at me. Two pairs of eyes gazed down at me filled with textbooks of knowledge on emotional reactions, mental disabilities, left and right brain abilities, neurons and electron reactions firing through stem cells and yet with all that knowledge neither had an answer to give me.

The phone rang.

Healy turned to answer the phone. Rogers gave me a sad smile and we continued to sip on our tea. Healy answered and listened. My heart strained to beat and the rim of the cup froze against my lips when I heard his voice respond to the caller. "Hello Anya." Healy greeted "Mhm I guessed. She's near by. Let me ask her myself." I look up at him in complete terror. He held out the receiver. I look over to Rogers. She nodded to me silently. Like a magnet, the need for my daughter lifted me up and slowly lead me to Healy's desk. He placed the phone into my hand. I looked at it for a moment waiting for it to come alive and bite me. I lifted the device to my ear.

"Hello" I said.

"Mamushka?" the small voice replied.


End file.
